


That Which is Unobserved

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Plug, Angst, Blindfolds, Bondage, Collars, Cuffs, Dom!Mycroft, Dominance, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Feelings of guilt, Flogging, Gags, Guilt, Illnesses, Jumping to Conclusions, Kneeling, Leashes, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Overworking, Pegging, Pinching, Riding Crops, Saint Andrews Cross, Slapping, Spanking, Spreader Bars, Submission, Tender Ending, Vibrators, Vomit, Vomiting, bench, headache, sub!Lestrade, writing lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: Dom!Mycroft takes exception when sub!Lestrade seems to forget all the rules and starts coming home late every day without any seeming reason. The thing is, Mycroft has failed to observe something crucial.





	1. Late Arrival

“In!” Mycroft roared from the front door. “Now!”

“Myc-” he knew he was pushing his luck, part of him just didn’t seem to care.

“Now, means now, Gregory!” Mycroft’s voice had risen in pitch considerably.

The DI glanced around the street before sighing. He slammed the car door, grabbing his bag before it shut. Seeing no other choice, he followed his Dom inside.

“How many more times do you plan to be late this week?”

Greg glanced at the clock. “Myc, it’s only half an hour. I was busy.”

“You should have phoned,” Mycroft said, crossing his arms. “Now put that bag down and strip.”

The DI’s fingers released their grip on the bag almost automatically. Before he had even thought about it, he started taking off his coat, but he was doing it with resentful, jerky motions and he simply let his clothes fall to the floor.

Mycroft’s face was thunderous the entire time Greg was getting undressed, but he didn’t speak until the Brat was done.

“Fold that lot up! I am not your slave, you’re mine.”

“Yes, sir,” Greg said, his tone off as he folded his clothes and placed them on the floor. He almost went down on his knees, but he stopped himself. He wasn't in the mood. Instead, he stood, his hands loosely at his sides, waiting for the inevitable orders.

“Get in the kitchen and make me a coffee. Now.” He needed a few moments to unwind, his sub had clearly not dropped the attitude.

“Yes, sir,” Greg said, nodding, he took off into the kitchen immediately just to get out of the pissed off proximity of his Dom. He knew he wasn’t helping himself.

When he returned with the coffee, he found Mycroft sat in his favourite chair. Greg approached him and held out the mug. The Dom accepted it and took a sip, closing his eyes.

“Bad day?” Greg asked, eyebrow raised.

Mycroft’s eyes snapped open. “Bad week. Made worse by you disobeying my rules. Repeatedly. Get on your knees, hands behind your head.”

Mycroft was watching him closely as he fell to the floor with a dull thud. “Do you think I care if you get angry with me right now?” He asked at the look on his sub’s face. “You‘re whole attitude has been off all week! I’ve been lenient, but I’ve had enough. You are my submissive you will do well to act like it!” He slammed the coffee mug down on the table as Greg went to open his mouth. It successfully cut him off. “You’ve broken yet another of my rules tonight. A rule you have broken before more than once, and 3 times this week alone, or am I wrong?”

“No, sir, but-”

“No, Gregory! No buts, I’ve had enough of your bullshit excuses. This specific rule was in place why?”

Greg glared at the floor. “To stop you worrying.”

Mycroft grasped a handful of his boy’s silver hair. “Go get the crop. You will be punished.” He let go and returned to his coffee that had spilled over the sides.

Greg scrambled off to fetch it and returned to the exact spot he had been moments before, glaring at the same spot he had also been glaring at. He held it out for his Dom, not looking up.

“You misunderstand me, boy. Hold both arms out.”

“Sir?”

“Now!” Mycroft barked. “It’s hardly rocket science.”

Greg did what he was told and Mycroft snatched the crop out of his hands. He whacked his back and shoulders with it. “Get straighter!”

When he was content with his sub’s posture he placed the crop in his outstretched hands. “That crop does not waver, or there will be hell to pay.”

Greg kept the crop level. It wasn't heavy, but over time his arms and shoulders started to burn. Eventually, his arms started shaking and there was nothing he could do to stop it even if he wanted to.

Mycroft watched, he wasn’t oblivious to the vibrations he was just indifferent and so, it seemed, was the sub. He knew there was nothing Greg could do to stop the natural strain, he just wanted him to fight it, but he didn’t. It wasn’t much later that the younger man’s arms started lowering.

“Keep those arms up!” Mycroft yelled.

The shock of the shout made him straighten them again, but he didn’t know how long for. “Sir, please,” Greg begged. He couldn't last much longer, no matter how much Mycroft seemed to want him to.

“Please what?” Mycroft leant forward in his chair, putting the mug on the coffee table more carefully this time.

“Please can I lower my arms, sir?”

“Why should I let you?” Now this was an interesting question.

“I can't do this, Myc-" Greg let his arms fall, trying to work out why he hadn’t done that earlier.

Mycroft reached out with his foot and toed at his sub’s cock, a look of disgust on his face at the hardening member. “One thing. I asked you to do one thing and you couldn’t even manage it. After this week. After your whole attitude. You couldn’t manage this one thing.”

Reaching out, Mycroft grabbed Greg by the chin and forced him to meet his eyes when there was no response, not even an apology. “Fetch the cock cage. You've just lost the privilege of coming tonight or, in fact, any when in the near future.”

Mycroft ground his teeth as the sub got to his feet and walked out of the room rather than crawling like he should have done on a normal day let alone one like today.

When Greg reached the box where their toys were stored, he hesitated. He really didn't want to wear the cock cage. It wasn't something he enjoyed, but it was clearly something he didn’t have a choice over either. Except… he had had a choice, all he had needed to do was hold that bloody crop up. Then again, being late back for the third night in a row was enough to piss Mycroft off royally.

The sub walked back to Mycroft and handed him the cage. “Get on your fucking knees!” He spat. “You don’t hand me things while you are on your feet. Another rule you have chosen to broken tonight. Unbelievable.”

Mycroft held the crop in his hand and patted the arm of the chair with it two or three times. Each time, Greg flinched from where he had settled on his knees. The Dom tossed the crop aside, then he slid down off his seat into a crouch. Reaching out, he grasped Greg’s cock.

Greg hissed air in between his teeth despite knowing it was coming.

“Don’t try and tell me you don’t deserve this. On your feet,” the government official ordered, straightening himself.

Greg got up at once, trying to work out why Mycroft had just made him kneel when he still held the cage.

Mycroft’s mood could have easily been dampened rather than heightened if he had just obeyed their rules. The government official snatched the cock cage and fitted it in place. He gave his boy’s caged cock a tug, then he grasped his bollocks, gripping them hard.

The sub hissed in pain, but struggled not to react in any other way. He shouldn't have tried so hard. It just goaded Mycroft to grip his bollocks tighter. “Sir-”

“Don’t,” Mycroft warned. “Just don’t. Back on your knees.” The Dom waited until he was down on the floor again before walking around Greg, looking him over from head to toe. He slapped his boy on the arse with his bare palm. Greg was so screwed tight he jerked as a response. “Get your back straighter! Put your elbows out.”

The sub complied, but it wasn't good enough. Mycroft grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and held him where he wanted him.

“I think it’s about time we went back to basics, don’t you?”

“Sir?”

“You can’t even get in a proper kneeling position.” He picked up the crop again and used it to prod his boy. “Chin up. Look me in the eyes.”

Greg did what he was told, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to-”

“Quiet,” Mycroft ordered. “I don’t want to hear it. In fact…” He fetched a gag and shoved it in Greg’s mouth, buckling it tight. “That will do. Tonight you will phone the Yard and phone in sick. Or book a holiday for the week. I don’t care. You will learn to obey me. Leniency has just made you worse, that will change. I will be how I should have been when you started acting like a teenager.”

The DI shifted where he knelt. He didn't mind a gag when it was used in play, but he hated wearing it as punishment. And the idea of having time off from work right now was out of the question, he couldn’t possibly-

“Stay still!” Mycroft barked. “I put you in a position a moment ago and you couldn’t hold it for more than 10 minutes.” He tapped at Greg’s lower back to make him straighten it. “You will not disobey me again.”

Greg would have apologised, but he couldn't. Instead he tried to maintain position without wavering. It wasn't easy as his Dom kept prodding him in various places, he was being just as stern as he had been when they had signed their contract in the first place.

“Don’t move.” Mycroft went and fetched Greg’s handcuffs. He showed them to his sub before taking hold of one of his wrists and pulling it down behind his back, snapping the cuffs on him. He did the same with Greg’s other wrist.

“You’re going to learn to kneel, Gregory. Properly.”

The DI’s head snapped up at that. Kneel! He’d been kneeling for Doms for years, for this specific one for nearly 5. He didn’t need to be taught this bollocks.

Mycroft swatted Greg across the thighs with the crop. “Spread your legs wider, boy!”

Greg did what he was told, that crop had a nasty sting to it especially against naked flesh. He bit into the gag, hard enough to bite a chunk out of it if it wasn’t solid.

Humming to himself, Mycroft lightly thwacked his boy’s cock. He smiled in satisfaction at how Greg hissed at the impact it made, his cock rattling the cage.

“Back straighter.” Mycroft snagged his collar and pulled him upright. Deciding it wouldn’t be enough, he locked his leash to it and threw it over one of the rafters. That would keep his boy straight.

“Hold that position. I expect you to maintain it no matter what I do to you.” He sat down and picked up his mug of coffee. It was still warm enough to drink, but only just. He sipped it as he watched his boy.

“Relax your shoulders. Stop tensing up. I’m not some stranger who’s walked in off the street.”

At that, Greg blushed lightly. He knew that, and he trusted his Dom. That wasn’t why he was tensing, but he was hoping Mycroft didn’t know that.

Mycroft slipped off his shoes, wriggled his toes, then stretched out his right foot the toe at Greg’s bollocks.

The DI almost giggled because his Dom’s socked foot felt ticklish. He didn't think laughing was a good idea, though.

“Something to say boy?” Mycroft hissed.

Greg’s face fell impassive immediately and he shook his head slightly. He probably would have said something that got him into more trouble and for that he was glad he was gagged.

Finishing his coffee, Mycroft set the mug aside and pulled the leash free. He stood up and headed towards the play room. “Come along, boy,” he said over his shoulder, he didn’t bother to look back, if Greg chose not to follow he’d get punished for it.

But Greg did follow… on his feet instead of on his knees. Mycroft didn’t know if that was better or worse than staying behind. Regardless, it wasn't allowed without his express permission.


	2. Lines

When Mycroft reached the playroom, he turned and faced the door with his arms crossed.

“Get on your fucking knees!” Mycroft barked.

Greg scowled briefly, but fell to the floor. It wasn't rare for Mycroft to swear, but it wasn’t quite as common as it had been tonight. He’d misjudged the situation. Again.

The Dom pointed to a nearby bench. “Lay over that now. I want your arse in the air and your knees spread wide.

This time he wasn’t dumb enough to get to his feet again. Instead he shuffled across the room and clambered up over the bench the best he could.

Mycroft gave his boy a swat on the ass as he walked by him. Reaching the cabinet full of supplies, he selected a long length of rope.

He started at his sub’s elbows joining them together behind his back and running the rope down to his cuffed wrists.

“You keep perfectly still, boy, you don’t so much as blink without my permission, clear?”

Greg wasn't sure what to do, but he decided nodding would be safe and did so. Despite, or because of, his Dom’s mood, his cock was straining at the cage.

“You’ll be punished for walking without my express permission. Yet another infraction to add to your ever growing list. I’m going to force something into your arse. You’re going to keep still and silent and take it. Clear?”

Greg nodded again. He forced himself to relax. The last thing he needed was to be tense when Mycroft did whatever it was he had in mind.

“Seeing as you seem to believe you know how to kneel, you’re going to do it with a vibrating plug up your arse.”

At that, Greg whined. He'd be driven mad by the need to come and he knew it. It would be a delicious sort of torture.

Mycroft poured a generous amount of lube over Greg’s crack, then he slid his fingers up and down along it, pausing over his hole. Within seconds Mycroft had 2 fingers inside him and Greg just groaned. This was only the beginning.

“You seem to be operating under the misapprehension that the world revolves around you.”

Greg wanted to protest, but couldn't. Besides, how was he supposed to think of anything beyond his own body when Mycroft was playing it like an instrument. Even work couldn’t distract him in this state. 

“Certain rules that I had thought you already knew will be repeated. In fact, when you’ve proven to me you can kneel like a good boy, you’re going to write them out. Over and over. You’ll remember them, and if you had forgotten before today, you’ll learn. I am fed up of having a bratty disobedient sub.”

All the DI could do in protest was bang his forehead against the bench. He knew the rules. He didn't want to have to write them out like a misbehaving child, he just hadn’t much cared for them this week. 

Mycroft watched him closely, it was clear his brat of a sub wasn’t understanding the severity of the situation. With his free hand he whacked his palm down on his arse. “Grow up Gregory.” He whacked him again for emphasis and the DI nodded his head.

Mycroft inserted the vibrating plug into Greg’s hole with one insistent push. He hummed in satisfaction when it was fully seated. Then he reached forward and grabbed the DI by his silver hair, pulling him upright. He pulled the gag free with a clear warning, “Don’t speak.” He was pleasantly surprised when Greg stayed silent and just stared at the phone in Mycroft’s hand.

“Oh this? We are phoning the Yard. Now.” Mycroft dialled the number from Greg’s speed dial and held it to his sub’s ear.

Greg knew exactly what he was supposed to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed to know what was happening. When the call was answered, it was Greg’s supervisor on the other end. “Hello, sir. This is Lestrade.” He paused for his supervisor to respond. “Yes, well, it seems I won't be able to make it into the office this week, sir. I have a pressing family matter I need to see to.” He paused again. “I know it’s terrible timing, sir. Please keep me informed?” Another pause. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Greg nodded to Mycroft who ended the call.

“Pressing family matter indeed.”

Greg rightly didn’t respond.

Mycroft chose against gagging the DI again, Greg could do with his new found freedom as he pleased. It would be him in the trouble, after all.

Wisely, Greg clamped his mouth shut. He was determined not to get in any more trouble if he could avoid it. It was at that point the plug was turned on and Greg’s hips bucked.

Mycroft snickered. “Get on your knees, boy.”

Greg slid off the bench and onto his knees. He tried to kneel up like Mycroft had shown him, but the buzzing in his arse was mightily distracting.

“Spread those knees! I thought you were sure you could kneel properly?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered as the only response he could think of.

“Sorry’s not good enough.” Mycroft fetched a spreader bar and, crouching down, he buckled each end just above Greg’s knees, then he widened it until his boy’s thighs were straining.

“Sir-”

“Don’t,” the government official threatened. “You will learn to be the good sub I know you can be.”

Greg ducked his head, for the first time feeling guilty. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep that chin up!” Mycroft barked. “If you can't manage that much, I'm certain a posture collar would do the trick.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Greg lifted his chin and looked determinedly at the wall in front of him.

Mycroft stepped back and folded his arms, then he disappeared from the room. “Stay still,” he ordered.

He returned after a few minutes clearly having visited his study. He had a stack of lined paper in his hand and a handful of ballpoint pens.

He chucked them on the bench and moved his gaze to the kneeling sub, much surprised to see Greg hadn’t actually moved.

“So you can do what you are told. Well that’s a surprise.”

Greg chose not to respond to that, just remained staring at the wall. Behave, he kept telling himself. Behave and this situation will become better real soon.

Mycroft started unravelling the rope from around Greg’s arms. He admired the markings the rope left behind. When he was done, he removed the handcuffs as well. He gave the DI a few moments to get the movement back in his arms then he told him to put his hands behind his head. “Now, boy!” He ordered sharply.

When he was in position, Mycroft cuffed them to his collar, but worked his muscles at the same time beneath tender hands.

Greg was managing to stay in place, but it was difficult with the buzzing in his arse. When it was turned up a notch, however, he couldn't hold out any longer. He hips jerked forward and he let out a groan.

“Oi!” Mycroft barked stepping forward and pressing his foot against his sub’s caged cock. He gripped Greg’s chin and yanked his head up to meet his eyes. “You will keep still.”

“Yes, sir,” the DI gasped. He had no idea how he was going to manage it. He clenched his ass cheeks and tried to think of anything that would help.

“You basically asked for this Gregory. Your cocksure glare at me when I told you you’d be ‘learning to kneel’ said it all. You will keep still or you will be punished. I mean it.”

“Oh, god. Yes, sir.” It was getting more difficult by the moment to remain still. He knew he wouldn't be able to manage it much longer.

“Back straighter, Gregory,” Mycroft ordered flicking the plug down a notch rather than up. “Your posture leaves a lot to be desired.”

The DI breathed out a sigh of relief. He’d be able to last longer now. Still, his cock strained at its confines and his balls felt heavy with the need for release.

When Greg had managed to successfully kneel in the same position for half an hour Mycroft moved to uncuff him. “Kneel beside the bench.”

Greg scooted as close to the bench as he could and knelt there. He wanted to rub his wrists, but thought better of it instead he just settled them back behind his head.

Mycroft paced around the bench and his kneeling sub. “I’m sure you can work out what you’re about to be doing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You knelt in position without needing correction for half an hour. Get started, if you’re a good boy I’ll let you have a cushion.”

The DI stared at the paper with trepidation. Mycroft hadn't told him what lines he was to write. If he had been a Holmes, he could have deduced it. As it was he'd have to ask. “Sir,” he said, voice quiet. “What should I write?”

Mycroft closed his eyes. “Are you being deliberately dense?”

“I'm sorry sir?”

“The rules, boy. You said you knew them. Prove it. Right them out in the order they are on the contract.”

“Oh.” Greg blushed, feeling like an idiot. “Yes, sir.” He got to work writing out the rules. He didn't rush. He knew his Dom expected him to write them out completely and neatly, the fact that Mycroft stood for several minutes watching over his shoulder told him that.

He was glad he hadn’t been lying when he had said he had known the rules. He had, he just… what had he been doing this last week? Just ignoring them. He blushed in realisation.

Mycroft stood over him. He saw it when the blush crept down Greg’s neck and over his chest. Good. His boy had finally realised how badly he had cocked up. He waited a while before resuming his pacing around the bench, still not pausing to ask what had caused such a turn in behaviour. 

“You might not like being a sub. You might not like me being a Dom, but that is the world we live in, Gregory, so you have no choice. You might not like the idea of me being above you, but you need to respect me. I thought over time that might change, but maybe I was wrong.”

Mycroft’s words upset the sub so much that he dropped his pen and turned to wrap his arms around his Dom’s legs. “Sir, no! I love being your sub. I'm sorry I've disappointed you, sir. I'm so sorry.” He was very near to tears.

Mycroft stared down at him for a moment unsure what to say to that, he ran his hand through his hair briefly.

“You need to prove that to me, Gregory. Because it certainly doesn’t look that way.”

“Yes, sir,” Greg said with a sniffle. He picked up his pen and started writing with renewed vigour, determined to make Mycroft proud.

Mycroft just took a deep breath and with a heavy sigh fell back on the bed that sat in the corner of the playroom.

He couldn’t just let his sub off when he was done with the lines. All he had done so far was prove a point.

Greg’s hand started to cramp. He set the pen down and worked his fingers and wrist for a moment, then he picked up the pen and started writing again. He hoped he was making a good impression, but after writing the rules down, he realised just how many he had been breaking lately. He wanted nothing more than to glance over his shoulder to see Mycroft’s face, to see how this was going down with his Dom, but he daren’t. He also had no idea how many times he was meant to copy out this part of the contract, he supposed until Mycroft stopped him.

Mycroft decided to let his boy copy out their rules one more time before he would stop him. After that, he wasn't sure which direction to take with Greg: corporal punishment or something more esoteric.

The sub shook the cramp out of his hand another time, hoping it wouldn't earn him further chastisement. This time he couldn't resist a quick glance at Mycroft and it wasn't completely reassuring. 

Mycroft was leant back in his chair now, staring at the ceiling, clearly contemplating what he was going to do next. The fingers of his right hand twitched, a fact of which the older man would have been appalled to learn. Greg recognized it as a tell that his Dom was considering the crop or worse, the cane.

He squeezed his eyes shut, making himself keep quiet. 

“I can’t hear a pen scratching, boy.”

That jolted Greg back into action and he resumed writing out the rules. He could almost feel his arse smarting already, though, and he kept shifting on his knees, ignoring the beginning of clouded vision as he felt a headache starting to become prominent. 

Greg had no idea how long he knelt there, he just knew the longer he waited the more nervous he became and the worse his head got.

Mycroft stood and walked up behind the kneeling man, resting his hands on his shoulders. "You may stop writing, Gregory."

It was almost comical watching because the DI’s hand almost had to wind down rather than just stop on the spot. Once he had stopped writing, he didn’t know what to do.


	3. Confusion

"Come, pet." Mycroft walked across the room and stood before the Saint Andrews cross that stood in the corner.

Greg, nervous, crawled along beside him and knelt up next to him when he stopped.

Mycroft reached down, grabbed his collar in his fist and pulled him upright. “Get into position.”

Whimpering rather pathetically, Greg moved into position. Mycroft made short work of binding him to the cross using the cuffs that already hung from it. When he was done, he hefted his boy’s caged cock, then let it drop.

Greg ground his teeth, choosing to keep his mouth shut completely. He wouldn’t say another word out of turn and take whatever the Dom was about to dish out, then maybe he could sleep. 

The government official left the room without a word and put the kettle on. He'd let Greg anticipate the possibilities a bit longer. He took his time, let the kettle boil, steeped his tea and prepared it just the way he liked it, then he carried it back into the playroom where he sipped it, standing in front of Greg. After a bit, he set his mug on a nearby table and picked up a blindfold.

Much to Mycroft’s surprise, the younger man didn’t even react as he picked it up, nor as he put it in place. 

Greg let the darkness settle over him and waited as calmly as he could for whatever came next. He was fully expecting to be flogged in some fashion. It came as a complete surprise when Mycroft reached up and twisted his nipple hard, but again he held his tongue despite a small part of him wanting to yell at the Dom and tell him to piss off.

Moments later, Mycroft released his boy’s nipple and placed an unforgiving clover clamp on it, then he repeated the process with the other nipple. Due to the fact Mycroft had already grabbed his nipple rather roughly, he didn’t find it to be that much of a shock. The government official stroked Greg’s cheek as he studied his pet. He stepped back, then selected a leather flogger from the table.

He expected to turn around and face a tense submissive, instead Greg hung from the cross as calm as he could possibly be. It made Mycroft pause, but not for long. He struck the DI across the thighs, causing him to flinch, but nothing more.

Greg only flinched on the first stroke, after that he was prepared. His eyes were shut beneath the blindfold as he focused on his reaction.

Mycroft tossed the flogger aside. This was interesting. His pet had truly resigned himself to his punishment. He grabbed his pet by the scruff of the neck and pulled his head back. “Why have you suddenly decided to behave, hmm?”

Greg’s face flamed. "You were right, sir. I had ignored some of the rules." He could admit that now, as guilty as it made him feel, but the quicker this was over, the better.

“Are you suggesting I was wrong before?” 

Greg opened and closed his mouth several times. He could lie here or he could tell the truth, both would probably get him in more trouble.

“You clearly didn’t believe me an hour ago, after all,” Mycroft observed. 

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, the sub let out a defeated sigh. "I was being an idiot, sir."

“Hmm.” Mycroft let his head go and the DI stilled completely. He was feeling guilty for having to punish him now, but he had to follow through. He thought of the brat’s attitude when he got home earlier and knew he had no choice and he felt the anger renewing inside him.

He picked up several pegs and started attaching them to Greg’s bollocks. By the time he was finished, he had attached ten over their sensitive skin.

Greg had quite clearly clenched his arse around the vibrator, but beyond that he was remaining completely still. Mycroft moved around behind him and removed the attachment from the cross then he stuck one finger in his pet’s hole and flicked the vibrator up a notch.

The DI shivered momentarily, then got himself under control. He could take this if it was what his Dom wanted from him. If this was what it took for this to be over. 

Mycroft had told his sub he would need to go back to basics with him, but Greg seemed to be back to his normal submissive self. He found himself wanting to take his pet down and fuck him, but that would never do, not until the punishment was complete at least. Part of him wanted Greg to start acting up again, at least that would make it easier to drag this out.

Despite how well the sub was taking his punishment, he couldn't stop the sheen of sweat that had broken out over his body. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face, catching Mycroft’s eye. The Dom reached out and wiped it away, then he cupped Greg’s cheek. He pushed the blindfold up and away, trying to catch Greg’s eyes, but his head ducked immediately. "No, pet. Look at me."

Greg brought his brown eyes up to meet his Dom's. Once done, he couldn't look away. He wanted to drop down at Mycroft’s feet and throw his arms around his legs, seeking comfort. Instead, he held his gaze for as short as he could and then dropped them again, looking at his Dom wasn’t submissive.

It had been long enough for Mycroft, though. He had seen what he needed to see to deduce his pet's state of mind. He tugged on one of the nipple clamps before removing it, then he massaged away the aching burn with his thumb.

Greg didn’t quite know what to do. When Mycroft did the same to the other one, Greg merely bit his lip. “Please, sir. Don’t.”

The government official hesitated, not understanding the reason behind Greg’s request. He shook his head. "I'm the Dom. Not you. I make the decisions." He circled both nipples with his thumbs, then he leant forward and kissed one of them, sucking and licking it.

Greg bit his lip again, really not sure what had caused such a turn in events. Why was Mycroft suddenly comforting him?

As the Dom switched his attention to the DI's other nipple, he reached down and plucked off one of the pegs, causing Greg to gasp. “Sorry, sir,” Greg stuttered. 

“Don’t be stupid. It’s nice to see you react, if I’m honest.”

“Sir?”

"It's your reactions that please me, pet. Without them, I might as well be playing with a life sized doll."

Frowning, Greg nodded once. Of course it was. It wasn’t him being good that was making Mycroft do this, it was Mycroft’s pleasure. 

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

Mycroft plucked another peg from the sub's bollocks as he covered Greg’s mouth with his own. He breathed in the gasp his pet let out like it was the sweetest oxygen. 

The DI let him plunder his mouth freely. 

“Are you not enjoying this, pet?” Mycroft asked after a moment. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Am I meant to be?”

"You are now." Mycroft cradled Greg’s face in his hands. "You submitted to me beautifully during your punishment."

“Yes, sir,” the DI nodded, completely lost from what was going on. Mycroft had been incredibly mad. And now he wasn’t? It made no sense. Apparently it didn't have to.

Mycroft kept kissing Greg on different parts of his body as he removed peg after peg until they were all gone.

Sighing softly at the dumb look on Greg’s face, Mycroft cupped his cheek again. “Smile, pet.”

Greg managed a weak smile, but he was still confused.

"Don't worry, pet. I'll have plenty of chances to punish you in the future."

The sub’s eyes widened in horror, how long was this going to go on for? He managed to get control over himself, what was he expecting? Mycroft was in a bad mood, it didn’t matter about his day... week. 

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, staring at the floor again.

Mycroft didn’t take Greg down from the cross. He enjoyed having his sub displayed for him to look at as he pleased. He took a few minutes to simply touch Greg all over, sometimes keeping his touch gentle, sometimes using pinches and slaps.

When his sub still didn’t react, Mycroft huffed in annoyance. “You are not a robot, Gregory!” He was growing angry again. It was tempting to simply leave him hanging there until his temper cooled. He replaced the blindfold, then did just that, walking straight out of the room. 

Wanting nothing more than to cry, Greg managed to contain himself. Time seemed to pass glacially and he began to shiver. Just as he truly felt cold, a blast of heat hit him. Mycroft must have deduced he was getting cold and didn’t that compassion make him feel even worse. Not only had he practically scared his Dom off, he was still kind enough to give him some level of comfort, even if he was beginning to ache and get stiff.


	4. Only So Much

Mycroft watched Greg over the camera he had installed in the playroom. It wasn't until he started seeing flickers of emotion on his boy’s face that he even considered going back into the other room. He had half hoped for this, hoped Greg was a brat so it was easier to follow through with this, but now he didn’t know what to do.

Greg shifted the best he could on the cross, trying to give his aching muscles some relief. He was only marginally successful and settled back down to wait, resigned. He let his head fall back against the padded attachment that was there and sighed, maybe he should try and sleep, as uncomfortable as he was. He could feel a headache coming on and he was shattered.

Mycroft saw what Greg intended. He couldn't allow that. He went back into the playroom and grasped his boy by the hair. "Don't even think about taking a nap. That would make me very unhappy."

Greg tensed, taking a deep breath, he had thought that was what the Dom intended, leave him there for hours. “S-Sorry, sir,” he stuttered trying his hardest to not cry.

“Are you cold?”

“N-no, sir,” he lied, keeping his head still in Mycroft’s hand.

The government official gave a delicate snort. "Don’t lie to me, boy. I won't have it. Now, are you cold?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

Mycroft went and turned the heating even warmer, then he came back. "You should warm up soon enough."

“Thank you, sir,” despite all of this, Greg’s mind drifted to work. Drifted to the cause of this.

“Hey!” Mycroft barked, gripping his hair tighter and yanked his head back hard. “Stop drifting! You are here with me. Bloody well act like it.”

“Sorry, sir,” he whispered, shivering slightly.

Mycroft didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t leave Greg hanging up there indefinitely so he sighed. “I’m going to let you down. You are going to straight to the bench. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Greg sighed with relief as he was released from the cuffs that held him in place. His head felt heavy enough. He almost fell to the floor, but his Dom caught him and eased him to his hands and knees. The DI crawled over to the bench and lay across it. He didn’t just lay across it, but he flopped. The cold had seeped into his arms and he was struggling to feel his fingers. He tipped his head to the opposite side of the Dom so he wouldn’t have to look at him.

Mycroft walked around and crouched down into Greg’s line of sight. "This behaviour is certainly doing nothing to improve your predicament. I didn't tell you to look away from me."

“I’m sorry, sir,” Greg apologised yet again. He had no idea what he was doing wrong. He was trying his hardest, but nothing seemed to be good enough for the older man.

Mycroft grabbed a handful of silver hair and turned his boy’s head to face him. "Look at me when I'm in the room."

“Yes, sir,” Greg whispered, feeling a slight tickle in the back of his throat. “Sorry, sir.” The normal rule was to never look at him, he couldn’t win.

The Dom released his grip on Greg’s hair. "I can always warm your arse if you need proper motivation in how to behave."

Greg closed his eyes, not knowing how to respond to that.

Mycroft leant forward and began to buckle him onto the bench. He made certain the buckles were tight, but wouldn’t cut off Greg’s circulation. He didn't want his pet to be able to wriggle even a tiny bit.

Greg didn’t know if being securely tied was a good thing right now, his head was beginning to get a little foggy. It wasn't just how he felt physically, he also felt miserable mentally, like he wanted to scream. He wanted Mycroft to just leave him alone and let him suffer in his misery alone for a while.

He had started off feeling bad for the way he had treated his Dom, but now... now he realised what an idiot he had been. He’d had a week from hell. Mycroft should have seen that. Without meaning too, he growled his displeasure.

"What was that boy?" Mycroft tapped Greg on the arse. "That sort of behaviour is completely inexcusable."

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, pressing his head into the bench. He could feel a god awful headache approaching and just wanted the Dom to leave. Of course, that wasn't going to happen.

Mycroft slapped Greg on the arse a couple of times, watching it turn pink. It didn't garner the reaction he had expected, though. Instead Greg had bitten his lip and had his eyes squeezed shut, trying to ignore everything that was going on around him.

Sighing Mycroft slapped his arse a few more times then stepped back and away. “Fine, if you’re going to sulk.”

Greg didn’t care what Mycroft thought. He was just glad to be left alone. Hopefully it would last long enough for him to get his head together, but the more he thought about the last few days, the worse his head got and the worse that throbbing got as well.

He knew as soon as he heard Mycroft’s footsteps that he needed to keep the fact he felt rough from the Dom.

The government official stopped beside the bench. He had picked up a crop on his way back in and struck the side of the padding with it, narrowly missing the DI.

Greg flinched and groaned silently as the side of his head collided with the bench.

“Not paying attention, boy? Something more important to think about than me?”

Mycroft’s words grated on the DI's nerves. They didn't usually. Under normal circumstances, they would reach a place in him that would calm him, even during punishment. He grabbed his sub by the hair. “Well?”

Greg didn’t know what to say. What could he say that wouldn’t piss the older man off even more?

"What could be more important than you, sir?" The sub knew it sounded cheeky, but he felt too miserable to care.

Mycroft squeezed his grip even tighter making the younger man wince. “Don’t push your luck.”

"No, sir."

Mycroft brought the crop down on Greg’s arse, leaving a bright red stripe in its wake. He did it again. And again.

Greg lost count how many times Mycroft hit him, but each one made his head throb even more. Before he could stop himself he was sick down the side of the bench narrowly missing his Dom’s feet. He was so securely tied down he gagged on it because he couldn’t move.

Mycroft stood there for a moment, stunned, before he went into action. He got Greg free of his bonds as fast as he could and helped him sit up, then ran for a damp flannel. The whole time, he was berating himself.

Greg sat on the edge of the bench, shivering, as he gripped the edge with white knuckled fingers. He felt more miserable than he ever had before in his life. His exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He doubted he could even stand up and walk.

When Mycroft reappeared Greg flinched, “Sir, I’m sorry-”

“Stop right there,” Mycroft ordered, handing him a glass of water. After the DI had taken a few sips and lowered the glass, Mycroft wiped his boy's face. He felt like a complete arse. Obviously he had missed something. Greg was clearly at the end of his rope, but why? And what did he need to do about it?

Greg tried to stand up, but fell back down on the bench. He wanted to get out of the playroom and away from Mycroft at least for a bit. The fact he couldn’t walk leant a slight problem.

Mycroft cautiously stepped forward to lift him up.

At first, the DI drew back from his Dom, then he thought better of it. He allowed Mycroft to help him to their bedroom and into their bed. He was grateful when the Dom left him alone to go clean the mess in the playroom.

He flopped back on the bed and managed to get below the sheets, curling himself into a tiny ball. It felt good to lay there. At least his body could enjoy the relative comfort, well, to some extent. He still ached all over and his mind was racing madly. It kept falling back to work, and the hell it had been all week. He rolled over and buried his head beneath the pillows trying to forget.


	5. Revealed

Mycroft returned to the bedroom. He was completely stymied by Greg’s behaviour. His sub had never hesitated to use his safe word in the past when he had been ill. What was so different about this time? The question was eating at him and something inside him ached. “Pet, would you like a drink?”

“No, sir,” he whispered, his voice muffled muffled by the bedclothes. Although he would very much like a drink, the horrible taste of sick still in his mouth.

Mycroft sighed and set the glass of water he had brought with him on the bedside table. He shifted from foot to foot, wanting to get in the bed and offer comfort. “Are you going to be sick again?”

Once Mycroft had stepped back, Greg reached out for the water. He drank half the glass. His stomach felt much better now he was in bed and didn’t have to deal with an angry Dom.

Mycroft watched him, confused. So he took the water from the unit, but not from him? Why was Greg mad? It couldn’t be for being ill, not when he knew he should have safe worded. “Pet, why didn’t you use your safeword?”

The DI just snorted and hid under the duvet. It should have been obvious, especially to a Holmes. Mycroft had been angry and hadn’t been willing to listen to anything Greg had had to say, so why should he have bothered.

“Answer me, Gregory.”

“You wouldn’t have listened,” Greg said around a mouthful of more water.

Mycroft felt like he had been slapped. He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed without giving his body permission to do so. If that was what Greg really thought, what did that say about him as a Dom? “What makes you say that?” He managed to ask.

Greg didn’t answer, just grabbed his pillow, coughing slightly.

Sighing, Mycroft closed his eyes. “Are you hungry?”

The DI shook his head, not lifting it from the pillow.

Mycroft was even more frustrated now. "I could lay down with you. Keep you company." That only earned him a shrug.

He didn’t know what to think. Greg should have safe worded no matter what he thought, but that wasn’t why he was concerned. Not completely. Something wasn’t right. And he should have seen it sooner. It was starting to make him feel ill himself, ill from guilt. Guilt wasn’t something he was accustomed to feeling. He had to do something. But what?

All he could do right now was be there for Greg so he laid himself down beside the DI, pleasantly surprised when he rolled into him slightly. Cautiously, Mycroft put his arm around Greg’s waist. The sub didn’t shake him off, so he left it there.

The evening was far too quiet and everything felt horribly awkward, but both Mycroft and Greg finally managed to fall asleep.

* * *

They were both jerked awake by Greg’s phone ringing, but the DI made no move to answer it as he groaned, his head was still throbbing.

Mycroft answered it. "Detective Inspector Lestrade's phone." As he listened, he went pale, not for his own sake, but for Greg’s. "Understood. I'll let him know." He rang off and stared at the phone for a long moment.

“No,” Greg sobbed. He didn’t have to be a Holmes to deduce the phone call outcome. He buried himself under the covers again.

"Gregory." Mycroft placed his hand on where his sub's shoulder should be. "Sergeant Donovan-"

"Don’t say it. I know. I should have been there."

And wasn’t that the truth. Mycroft closed his eyes and sat beside the younger man and now it all made sense. He should have paused to ask why Greg was in a shit mood, why he was late home. Instead he’d leapt to unjust conclusions.

"Gregory, I'm so very sorry. I know how close you were to Sergeant Donovan." Mycroft ran out of words to say. There weren't enough words in the entire English language to convey how badly he felt.

Greg let out a sigh and eased his head out from under the covers. His eyes were red rimmed and glassy with unshed tears. He wanted comforting, but he was still upset with Mycroft.

The government official could clearly see the dilemma. He should have known. He decided to go and make tea instead of coffee.

It was tempting to call John. The doctor was a highly talented Dom as evidenced by his successful handling of Sherlock. He decided he'd do that as a last resort, but he hoped he could fix his mistakes with Greg on his own.

After making tea, the Dom carried two mugs back into their bedroom and offered one to Greg. Mycroft was surprised when the DI took it. He settled down on the bed beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“She was shot. On Monday.”

It was Thursday. Why hadn't he been informed? It was tempting to let all his anger be diverted towards whoever had shot Donovan and towards his staff, but he was the only person to blame for how he had treated Greg. He didn’t know how he could have known, though. To him it had just looked like his sub was being a brat without cause.

Mycroft reached out a hand and rested it on Greg’s thigh. "I should have known something was wrong, Gregory. I'm sorry, pet, for not seeing it before."

“Do you like it when I’m in the wrong?” Greg asked after a moment, while he stared down at his tea.

Mycroft blinked, stunned. "No, pet, no. I only like it when you play at being in the wrong and the punishments are likewise playful. I don't ever enjoy the real thing. Besides, I was the one in the wrong this time."

“That’s my point,” Greg leant to the side and sneezed, his tea shaking in his hand, Mycroft caught it while he wiped his nose. “You didn’t pause to ask what had made me so annoyed. To stop and think that it wasn’t me being a deliberate brat.” This time he coughed.

If it had been in a Dom's nature, Mycroft would have knelt at Greg’s feet. As it was, he didn't know how to show proper contrition for a mistake on such a grand scale. "I don't know what to say."

“When did she die?” The DI asked after a moment.

“This morning,” Mycroft whispered. “Was it a case?”

Greg shook his head. “Court. She was testifying. Sniper was waiting for her.”

Despite all of this, Mycroft was struggling to understand how Greg was still willing to talk with him. He cleared his throat twice before managing to speak. "Was the sniper apprehended?" He suspected not. That was probably the reason for Greg’s late nights, trying to catch the sniper.

Greg didn’t answer. He couldn’t face up to that failure. Not right now. Not when it was more important than ever. “You hadn’t even noticed how early I was leaving for work.”

Mycroft winced at the accusation. He wasn't worthy to have Greg as his sub. He was supposed to be intelligent, observant, but he had let the DI down in so many ways.

“I want to see her,” Greg said after a moment.

“You aren’t well, pet. You can’t even stand up.”

The DI swung his legs around and placed his feet on the floor. "Then you can either help me or watch me fall flat on my face."

Mycroft knew as well as Greg did how exhausted he was and he had no chance on his own. Sighing, he saw no other option but to help him get dressed. "Alright. You'll need a shower. You smell rank." That was his fault for what he had put Greg through the night before. "Let me start the shower, then I'll come help you."

Greg watched him, slightly unsure, but as he tried to get up on his own, he immediately felt lightheaded and fell back to the bed.

Returning to the bedroom, Mycroft stripped quickly. Greg gave him a strange look. "I'm not risking you falling, pet." The Dom helped Greg to his feet, into the bathroom and then into the shower where Mycroft joined him.

“You feel guilty,” Greg pointed out when Mycroft dropped to his knees to wash his feet.

The government official paused in what he was doing. "More than you'll ever know." He washed his sub's calves and continued, moving upward. He knew it wasn’t the time nor appropriate to do anything more seductive right now.

They were both nearly clean in no time, but when Mycroft glanced up he realised Greg was steeling himself against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut. "Hang on, pet." Mycroft rushed the rest of the wash up, giving Greg’s hair a brief wash, then he turned off the taps and helped his sub out of the bath. He closed the lid on the loo. "Sit, pet. Please."

Greg more fell on the loo than sat and he tried to hold himself up holding the wall. His head was throbbing.

“I’ll get some painkillers, pet. Don't move.” Mycroft rushed from the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and paracetamol.

Greg took the tablets and swallowed them, washing them down with the water, then Mycroft lifted him up and carried him back to the bed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea we go out, babe. You’re burning up.”

"I'm going!" The force of his words triggered a coughing fit that shook his entire body.

Mycroft bit his lip. "How about this? I'll call John. If he clears you to go out, I won't stand in your way. I'll even help."

Greg pushed him away. “I’m going whether you say so or not. If not, you can piss off.” He tried to get up and Mycroft had to catch him before he hit the floor.

"At least let me dress you," the Dom said as he lifted him back onto the bed.

The DI nodded, much to Mycroft’s relief. Dressing Greg would buy him some time to think, though not much.

The Dom fetched clothes for Greg, including jeans and a comfortable shirt. He took his time and helped his sub ease into each garment, pausing now and again when coughs overtook the DI.

Greg, finally dressed, once again tried to stand. This time, he made it to his feet, though he was wobbly. He accepted help from Mycroft in getting to the sofa in the living room.

“No. I’m not falling for that. We’re going now.”

“You need to eat, Gregory.”

"Wouldn’t stay down. Let's go." He shuffled for the door and Mycroft was forced to help him.

"I'm driving," Mycroft stated, no nonsense. "You can at least let me do that."

Greg almost fell into the passenger seat. Mycroft felt stupid, but he helped buckle him in.

Donovan was at Barts. Mycroft wondered if that would be a comfort to his sub, knowing Miss Hooper would be taking care of her. He let out a sigh and put the car in gear.

After they had parked and walked down the stairs into Barts morgue they were both surprised to see both John and Sherlock stood there, beside them was Dimmock.

Before Mycroft realised what was happening, John had grabbed his sub in a hug, while Sherlock stood off to the side, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Mycroft crossed over to his brother and stood there awkwardly. It only took one glance from Sherlock for him to deduce what had happened.

"You fucked up with Lestrade."

The older Holmes grimaced, but didn't deny it.

Sherlock turned his gaze to Greg. "He looks awful. Is he ill?"

Mycroft mimicked his brother and pushed his hands into his trousers also, then he jerked his head into the room where Donovan was behind a screen. “As well as that. Yes.”

"And he still insisted on coming." Sherlock let out a great sigh. "Furthermore, you allowed it. Brother-mine, let John deal with him right now. Surely he can talk some sense into him."

“No. Not a chance I’m letting him out of my sight.”

“His best friend was dying and you hit him with a crop,” Sherlock hissed.

“That’s precisely my point. I’ve screwed up enough.”

"Leave. Him. To. John. I may be just a sub, but in this case, it gives me insight that you are lacking. Besides, John is a doctor. Lestrade respects that."

“Gregory doesn’t give a fuck, little brother,” Mycroft ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I offered him John earlier. As a compromise, he basically told me to piss off.”

"That was before. This is now." Sherlock placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Give him a chance. Please, big brother."

“John can hang around, but I’m not letting my submissive from my sight, Sherlock.”

The detective sighed, knowing that was as good a compromise as he was likely to get.

Lestrade stumbled, but John steadied him. "You're not well, mate." The doctor could feel heat radiating off of his friend.

Greg tried to shrug the younger man off him, but merely stumbled again, John held him upright. “Look, I can see you’ve had some sort of argument with Mycroft going by how those two are rabbiting on, but will you at least let me check you over?”

“No. I need to see her.”

Dimmock wandered over. “Let Doctor Watson check you over first.”

"No."

"If you don't, you won't be allowed to see her," Dimmock said firmly. "It's that simple."

Greg snorted. “You’re the same rank as me, Dimmock, you can’t tell me what to do,” with that outburst, Greg threw himself into another coughing fit.

Molly crossed her arms. "In case everyone has forgotten, this is my morgue. I'm in charge." She turned to Lestrade. "You don't have an official need to see her. So unless you let John look you over, I will refuse to let you do so." She might be a sub herself, but she wouldn't be pushed around in her morgue.

“Fuck sake,” Greg hissed stumbling to the nearest chair. “It’s the flu. I’m not dying.”

John moved to his side and started checking him over. "We're just worried about you, Greg." His demeanour grew grimmer. "After you see her, you either go to hospital or straight home and I'll check in on you."

Mycroft was staring at his brother. “I told you it would be no use,” he grumbled eventually.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'd argue it helped somewhat. At least you know he's not so ill that John called for an ambulance."

“I knew that anyway. Or I would have phoned for an ambulance.” He leant back against the wall, with his hands in his pockets and sighed heavily. He felt out of his depth which was a rare and uncomfortable feeling for the government official.

As Greg stood up, John steadied him. Mycroft stepped forward to help, hesitating. He wasn't certain his assistance would be welcomed, but John was nodding enthusiastically. Greg had to listen to someone after all.

Mycroft ducked under Greg’s arm and helped support him whilst Molly went to one of the drawers and opened it. Before she drew back the sheet, she gave Greg a worried look. "I know you've seen your fair share of bodies, Greg, but it's different when it's someone you know." At his nod, she pulled the sheet back.

Greg stumbled at the sight of Sally on the slab. It looked like her, but it didn't. The spark that made her her was gone. He would have fallen over if both Mycroft and John hadn’t been there to catch him. After a few moments, he nodded to Molly who covered Sergeant Donovan back up with respectful motions, then she slid the drawer back in place.

In a rare show of empathy, Sherlock moved a chair close by in case Lestrade wanted to sit down, but Greg shook his head. "I want out of this fucking place."

Molly looked down at her hands. She didn't take offense at his words, she understood how he must feel. When John caught her eye, she gave him a weak smile and nodded. "Go," she mouthed silently. She would be alright.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft and John helped Greg out of the morgue, with Sherlock following. They navigated the corridors of Barts and ended up out on the street. All four of them went to the car park where Mycroft had left his car. Once there, they tucked the DI into the passenger seat and closed the door.

“He needs bed rest,” John said straight away.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mycroft asked.

“Besides grief?” The blond snorted. “He’s malnourished, exhausted, stressed and dehydrated.”

Mycroft stood straight. He could deal with all of that. Hopefully. "Thank you, John. I'll take him home and get him into bed straight away." He held out his hand and shook the other Dom's hand. He gave Sherlock a nod. "Thank you for caring."

Sherlock just watched him for a moment, then nodded once.

“Come on you,” John ordered, grabbing his pet by the back of the neck and leading him towards the main road.

Mycroft climbed into the drivers seat and ruffled his pet’s silver hair. "When we get home, it's bed rest for you. I won't try to hide developments on the case from you. In fact, you may check in with Dimmock as often as you wish so long as you let me take care of you." He put the car in gear an navigated onto the street. "You mean everything to me, Gregory. You are my life."

Greg was staring out of the window, not knowing what to say or do to that. “Then you should have seen.”

"I know," Mycroft said with quiet regret. "I'd like to think because I'm intelligent, I'm infallible, but I'm not. When it came down to what mattered most... I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I did that with Sherlock too, when he was younger."

The DI slumped over against the window, resting against it. He was too tired to talk about the situation anymore. Maybe after he had slept for a bit. His eyes drifted shut and he drifted off.

Mycroft closed his eyes briefly. That’s all he could close them for, given that he was driving. He pulled into the lunch time traffic, thinking of ways he could make this right. Even when they arrived home, he hadn't figured it out.

Greg barely roused when the car stopped. Mycroft got out and went around to the passenger side. He opened the door carefully and caught his boy before he could fall. He unbuckled him and lifted him in his arms, carrying him into the house.

He lowered him onto the sofa, thinking he would appreciate it more than the bed right now.

“Shh, pet,” he whispered as he shifted when a blanket was placed over him.

The sub curled up under the blanket and let out a long sigh. “Can I have some tea, sir?”

Mycroft ran a hand through Greg’s hair. "Tea or anything else you need. Name it and it's yours."

Greg shook his head and hid under the blanket.

“And stop calling me sir.” Mycroft softened his tone when he saw the look of alarm on his sub's face. "I don't feel I deserve it right now. That's all. I should have done better by you." He let out a deep breath. "I’m going to try to do that now."

Greg watched him over top of the blanket then shrugged, disappearing back below it to hide.

If that was what Greg wanted to do, Mycroft would not gainsay him. He went to the kitchen and prepared tea for his sub just the way he liked it. He also grabbed a pack of Greg’s favourite biscuits and carried them along with the tea back into the living room. Silently, he set everything on the coffee table within easy reach of his pet.

He sat in the armchair near him, but Greg didn’t make an appearance. All the Dom could see was the top of his head.

It could have been adorable, but under the circumstances, it made Mycroft’s heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to hold Greg and comfort him. Thinking the DI was hiding from his Dom, he got to his feet and stepped from the room, watching from the door, but Greg still didn’t reappear. Maybe he was simply miserable. He had reason enough.

Mycroft returned and turned on the telly. He searched through the different channels until he found a rugby match and left it there.

After several minutes of him still not appearing, Mycroft shifted the blanket slightly and realised the DI had fallen asleep. He sighed in relief and collapsed back into his arm chair. That could have gone worse.

It was over three hours later that Greg stirred. He stretched, then started coughing. "Mycroft,” he called, looking around for his Dom. He smiled tiredly at him when he saw him sitting in his chair just watching him. “Can we go to bed, please?” Despite everything, he wanted the comfort of laying in their bed with his Dom close by.

“Can you sit up and eat something first? I’ll make you some soup, how does that sound?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Mycroft smiled sadly. “No.”

That actually earned him a tired, sad chuckle. “Alright. I'll eat something. For you.” He didn't feel particularly hungry, but he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

Mycroft returned a few minutes later with fresh tea and a sandwich, both of which he gave to Greg. He took the old cup of tea to the kitchen and set it in the sink. When he returned to the living room, he was pleased to find his pet actually eating.

“Have you eaten?”

Mycroft shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“Neither am I,” the DI couldn’t help but point out.

The government official laughed. "All right, Gregory. Point made. I'll go make myself a sandwich as well."

Greg gave him a genuine, but tired smile. "Good. At least one of us needs to stay healthy." His smile faded quickly as he thought of why he had driven himself so hard as to make himself ill.

Mycroft noticed and sighed. He dropped to one knee beside the younger man. “It’s ok to grieve, pet.”

“It’s not why I’m mad. The killer is still free.”

Mycroft hesitated, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. "Gregory, if you want... I can put one of my teams on it. Strictly in support of the Yard's efforts."

The DI glanced up. “Really?”

Mycroft smiled. “I can put more than one on it if you like.”

Greg’s eyes welled up and he hugged his Dom. He couldn't find the words to express his appreciation.

Mycroft smiled sadly over the DI’s shoulder while Greg squeezed him tightly. As soon as the DI released him, Mycroft stood and pulled out his phone. He dialled Anthea and explained the situation as well as what he needed. When he rang off, he had every confidence that the matter was well in hand.

"Thank you." Greg wiped at his eyes. He looked relieved, but tired. "Now go eat something like you promised."

Mycroft laughed as he helped Greg settle back on the sofa. “You got a headache?" At his nod, Mycroft ruffled his hair. “I’ll get some painkillers.”

The Dom made himself a sandwich to satisfy Greg, then returned with it, a glass of water and some paracetamol on a tray.

Greg took the painkillers quickly and downed the whole glass of water before he curled back up on the sofa.

Feeling more confident of himself. Mycroft sat on the sofa, lifting his pet's feet onto his lap. He was rewarded by a weak smile from Greg and for the first time he realised what was on the telly.

“The chiefs game? You could have told me.”

Mycroft laughed. “Well you slept through the last game.”

“Which one was it?”

“Sara something.”

Greg snorted. “Saracens. You could have woke me for that too.”

Mycroft used his free hand to rub his boy’s ankle. "You looked too peaceful. I just couldn't."

With a sigh that brought about a round of coughing, Greg nodded. “It was probably for the best. Who won?”

This time it was Mycroft who snorted. “I was watching you. Not the TV.”

Greg kicked Mycroft playfully. He still didn't feel great and he was upset about Sally, but he was glad to be feeling close to his Dom again. Even if it had come about through a nap. He sighed when Mycroft finished his sandwich. “Can we go to bed now?”

"Of course, if you don't want to finish watching the game."

"I'd rather get some rest with you to keep me company," Greg admitted.

Mycroft smiled softly. “I can set up the TV in the bedroom if you like?” He offered, scooping his sub up in his arms.

"Mm hm." Greg fiddled with a button on Mycroft’s shirt. "That would be nice." He let out a pleased sigh as his Dom settled him on their bed and covered him with his fluffy duvet.

Once Mycroft had set up the TV, he climbed in the bed with his pet. Greg placed his head on his Dom's shoulder and let out a sigh. He felt almost comfortable. Maybe he could forget things for just a few minutes, anyway.

Eventually, they both drifted off to sleep. They were woken several hours later in the dark of the early morning by Mycroft’s phone ringing.

Greg buried himself beneath the covers again, curling into Mycroft’s body heat.

“Sorry, pet,” he whispered, leaning over to answer it. “Anthea?”

"The subject has been apprehended, Mr. Holmes, and is in the custody of the Met."

Mycroft let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. It wouldn’t bring the sergeant back, but hopefully it would bring closure to those who knew her. "Thank you, Anthea." He rang off and set his phone aside.

Gregs head peaked up above the duvet. “Well?”

“It’s done. Dimmock has him.”

"Oh, thank god." The relief he felt was overwhelming. He would never do it outside the safety of their home, but Greg started crying from relief. He held onto Mycroft and sobbed out all the tension he had been holding in for days.

The more Greg sobbed into the government official, the worse Mycroft felt, he could have helped to prevent some of this hurt. "I'm so sorry, Gregory. Please forgive me for not seeing sooner."

The DI shook his head. "I should have told you instead of being so stubborn." He drew back and wiped away his tears. "It's at least as much my fault as yours."

That just made Mycroft feel even worse. He slid out of bed and crossed over to the window. He looked out over their large yard, thinking. He wasn't sure he would ever feel competent as Greg’s Dom again.

“Do you not think I have enough to get pissed off and angry over?” Greg grumbled from the bed.

"I do indeed." Mycroft leant his forehead against the window. "That's why I'm giving you space. I don't want to pressure you."

Greg realised the only way he was going to make Mycroft deal with the situation was to make him help him. He got to his feet and knew he would stumble.

Mycroft rushed over and ducked under Greg’s arm steadying him. "What do you need? Where are you going?"

Those two questions made the DI realise how rattled his Dom was. Mycroft should have been able to deduce the answer to both of those questions.

He flopped like deadweight in the Dom’s arms and wrapped his own around his neck. "Just help me to the living room. I don't think I can sleep anymore." He glance at the darkness outside, “despite the time.”

"Of course." Mycroft was just grateful to be of use. He lowered him to the sofa and tucked him back under the same blanket as earlier in the day, but as he went to leave, Greg grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down beside him.

Mycroft settled in beside Greg gratefully. All he wanted was close proximity to his sub. He'd take anything he could get. At some point, somehow, Greg had managed to shift slightly on the sofa and bring Mycroft down beside him. The Dom wanted to ask why Greg still wanted him. He simply couldn’t understand it.

“I love you. And I can’t lose you as well.”

This time, Mycroft was the one who sobbed, he buried his face into Greg’s arm and hid.

Greg hugged his Dom. “I love you, you ridiculous man. No one is perfect, not even you.” He began rubbing Mycroft’s back in circles.”Can we forget everything and go on?”

Mycroft was shaking his head into his sub’s chest. “How could you possibly trust me to Dom you again?”

Greg really didn't have the energy to deal with this, but he forced himself to do it anyway. "How could I ever trust anyone else? No, you're the only Dom for me."

Mycroft closed his eyes. Greg was settling for him. That was all, this wasn’t right. He had to get up. He tried to shift out of the gap he had been wedged into but the DI latched onto him. “I don’t care what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. You’re only getting up if you’re making me tea and toast.”

The Dom still tried to rise, but Greg held onto him tight. He wasn't going to let Mycroft get away from him. He needed him. Maybe he should tell him that. "Mycroft, I need you. It's that simple. Not only that. I want you. Please don't make me fight for this when I feel so bad already." Almost on par, Greg burst into a coughing fit having to sit up to stop from choking on nothing.

Mycroft immediately started rubbing Greg’s back. As soon as his sub had quieted, he spoke. "I wish I was the one who was sick rather than you." He rose from the sofa. "I'll go make that tea and toast you mentioned."

Greg grinned. “I’d rather coffee.”

“Best not,” Mycroft ruffled his silver hair as he made his way to the kitchen. At least he could take care of Greg and try to make him more comfortable. That was something he knew how to do.

When his Dom reappeared, the DI greeted him with a smile. He'd never before known Mycroft to be so unsure of himself and he was determined to put an end to it. "Thank you, sir."

Mycroft opened and closed his mouth several times before sighing and settling on the sofa beside him.

Greg snuggled in beside him with his plate of toast and his tea. He sighed a contented sigh. He was still upset over Sally, but his Dom's proximity helped.

“I’m thinking of taking some time off,” Greg said after a moment thinking. “I mean, beyond me being sick.”

"That might be for the best," Mycroft acknowledged. "Where would you go?"

"I'd stay here, you numpty, with you. I think I need that more than anything. It might help me get my head back together."

“Then what-”

“I want you to tell me you’ll have time off with me.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “But why?”

"Does there have to be a why? Can't it be enough that I want it, sir?"

Mycroft closed his eyes. “Ok.” The last thing he thought the sub would want was more time with him. Time off and alone, seemed more likely.

"Good." Greg finished his toast, then set his plate aside. The tea, he held for warmth. "Thank you, sir. And the moment I'm over this, promise me a scene. I already feel the need to submit." He was staring into the mug.

Mycroft didn’t even pause before his response. “No.”

It was suddenly too much for Greg. He couldn't argue anymore. He set the tea down and stood up. After a moment to steady himself, he left the room and retreated to the library where he sat in a chair with his head in his hands.

Greg leaving the room was the last thing Mycroft had expected. He didn't understand it and he couldn't stand that fact. He got up and went in search of him.

He searched for ages, but soon realised he wasn’t looking in the right places. Greg couldn’t exactly walk far, after all. He finally thought to search in the library. The sight of his sub looking so dejected nearly broke his heart. He sat in one if the other chairs. "Why did you leave?"

Greg spoke but he stayed looking down. “You. I’ve told you I want to move on. I’ve told you I forgive you. You just bloody wont let it drop,” he turned to the side and started coughing up a lung.

Mycroft moved to his side, but this time Greg turned away. When his coughing had subsided, he whispered, "If I can't have all of you, it won't be enough. It'll destroy me."

Mycroft closed his eyes at that. “How can you want to scene when you look and feel like shit?”

"Were you not listening?" Greg asked, exasperated. "I said when I'm over this. I'm not a complete idiot. But I'm going to need it when I am."

Mycroft just blinked dumbly and then sighed. “Ok,” he said eventually.

"Is that an ok that you finally understand? Because, god, I really need you to."

“It’s an ok I get it for now.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Mycroft sighed. “Can you come back to the front room and get comfy again?”

Greg nodded. He stood up and held out his hand for Mycroft to take. When his Dom did so, it made him feel warm inside.

They returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Greg lay down and rested his head in his Dom's lap. He was already exhausted again.

“You can sleep, pet,” Mycroft whispered softly.

Greg just nodded, pulling the blanket up over the both of them. He definitely noticed the fact that Mycroft had finally called him pet. It helped him relax like nothing else had that day. The government official seemed to notice it as well because he started running his hand through Greg’s hair softly. It seemed he had to ignore the events of a few days before. Still, he promised himself he would never make such a mistake again. If Greg ever acted out of character, he would ask why rather than just make assumptions. "I love you, pet. With all my heart."


End file.
